


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by Raven_Rose22



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Graphic Description, Hurt Crowley, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mentioned Beelzebub (Good Omens), Mentioned Hastur (Good Omens), Mentioned Ligur (Good Omens), Nightmares, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sad Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Supportive Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:29:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Rose22/pseuds/Raven_Rose22
Summary: Plot bunny that developed after reading this wonderful post:https://raven-rose22.tumblr.com/post/186251424157/ineffable-bastard-crowleyCrowley has nightmares and Aziraphale helps him by making him a dream catcher. On the plus side: Crowley is nightmare free, on the minus: holding onto it burns Crowley.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was given permission by Inefable-bastard-crowley (tumblr) aka Slashgod (AO3) to write a fic based on her wonderful post. 
> 
> I tried my best to reference the proper names for dream catchers and any inaccuracies are not meant to offend. 
> 
> Any and all mistakes are purely my own. Feedback as always is greatly appreciated and fuels my writing! Enjoy!

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Crowley liked to sleep much more than food. Food was Aziraphale’s guilty pleasure, the little touch of humanity which he allowed himself to indulge. Crowley would sometimes join him in the eating of food, but it was more to make his angel smile than the true enjoyment of food. 

Alcohol was different; alcohol helped numb the mind and shifted reality. No miracles required, simply copious amounts of alcohol. 

If Crowley let himself be honest, and let’s face it that was rarely, his one guilty human pleasure was sleep. He enjoyed sleep. Sleep was entertaining, and because they had bodies, that allowed them to dream. 

Dreams. 

Maybe it wasn’t sleep that Crowley valued, it was dreams. In dreams he could do anything, be anyone, revisit old memories, go back, go forward, jump, leap, and reach out to where he would fear in real life. In dreams he could be who he once was, an angel. He would dream of creating and stars and nebulae and entire universes filled with galaxies. He sometimes dreamed of being back in heaven, he sometimes woke up smiling, not remembering everything, but small flashes of the dreams. 

But sleep wasn’t always good. Often there were nightmares. Sometimes he woke up crying and screaming. Sometimes he woke up having scratched himself bloody because he was fighting for his life. Fighting one’s “inner demons” so to speak, and sometimes that wasn’t as much of a metaphor. Nightmares reminded him too much of hell. Of the time before he was selected to be top side on Earth. Nightmares sent him back to the place he was supposed to belong, yet where he never fit in. Nightmares were hell. In nightmares he relived the fall, over and over again. He felt the burn, the pain, the suffering all over again. It didn’t end. Crowley often wondered if demons maybe didn’t dream at all, just had nightmares. 

But every once in a while, more often after spending time with a certain angel, he had dreams. The dreams were worth the nightmares. In dreams he was fearless and unstoppable. He could be honest and not fear the consequences of said honesty. In dreams, he was besides his angel, with his angel, loving his angel, and he wasn’t told he was too fast. He was free to go as fast as he pleased and sometimes be unable to keep up with his angel. In his favorite dreams, they were not an angel and a demon, they were just…them. They could love as ardently as they pleased and no one paid them any mind. Those dreams were worth a million nightmares.

“Crowley dear?” Aziraphale’s soft voice broke through his daydream and he shook his head, turning to face the angel.

“Sorry, what?” 

They had just gotten back from another restaurant that Aziraphale had discovered. A small hole in the wall kind of restaurant that specialized in beer battered chicken sandwiches. They had made their way there in the Bentley and miraculously found the perfect parking spot around the corner from the restaurant. Even Crowley had to admit, the sandwich was very tasty. It wa greasy and crunchy and delicious. He hadn’t planned on ordering his own, but when the smell of them reached him, he caved, it had nothing to do with Aziraphale’s hopeful shinning eyes looking at him from the top of the menu, nothing at all. They both enjoyed the meal and drove back to the bookshop, where Aziraphale had promised him some form of alcohol. And who was he to refuse alcohol?

Aziraphale had misplaced the bottle of scotch he wanted them to drink that evening and as he looked for it, Cowley had sat down on the loveseat and stared at the books in the shelf in front. He had seen the titles countless of times, hell he probably knew the bookshop as well as Aziraphale. He had gotten lost in his own thoughts as one of the titles reminded him of the lovely dream he had last night. 

Now, having been caught day dreaming, he was reminded of how Warlock looked when Nanny caught him snooping around for the cookie jar. Aziraphale was looking at him with an odd expression, a bottle hanging from one hand while the other held two glasses. He had a soft smile on his lips, but his eyes were slightly concerned. 

“You seem distracted tonight my dear, everything alright?” he walked to the table and poured two glasses of the scotch. He handed one over and sat down at his chair, looking at Crowley with that same odd expression. 

“You like eating right?” Crowley said instead of answering, “But you don’t need to eat, we don’t actually need any food to survive.”

“Yes?” Aziraphale answered, eyebrows drawn closer together in confusion. It was like asking a fish if he liked to swim, but he didn’t want his friend to not talk, so he answered.

“I don’t care much for eating” Crowley said, gulping down half of the glass in one go, “Drinking, absolutely, but food? Eh, could go without honestly.”

“You didn’t like the restaurant?” Aziraphale tried to figure out where Crowley was trying to get.

“What? No, I did. I’m just saying, sometimes we can do things even though we don’t need to do them.” He finished his glass and went over to pour himself another. He downed that too and refilled it once more, before sitting back down.

He swirled the amber liquid around the glass, keeping his eyes on the small wave going around the glass as he asked, “Do you ever dream angel?”

Ah, this is where Crowley was going with this. Aziraphale was aware that he liked to sleep; he had even witnessed the demon falling asleep, usually after a long night of drinking on their part.

“I have dreamt before yes, but I don’t much care for sleeping. So much more can be done if one doesn’t sleep. I suppose sleep is to me as food is to you. I sometimes indulge, but it’s not something I greatly enjoy or miss.”  
“What do you dream about?” Crowley asked him, slouching a bit more in his seat as the alcohol warmed him from the inside out. 

Aziraphale finished his glass and refilled both of their glasses. “I don’t much remember dreams, I remember the feeling I wake up to more than the dream itself.” He shrugged, “I wake up content, sometimes laughing, I have even woken myself up from laughing, but I have never recalled what was so funny.”

Crowley smiled into his drink. “I think I’ve done that once or twice too. Strange isn’t it? An angel and a demon laughing themselves awake.”

“I suppose it is. I wonder if we were perhaps remembering a funny memory. You think two people could have the same dream?” he poured another glass full, the bottle was almost empty, so he miracled it full once more. 

Crowley happily drank some more. “I don’t know. Not many angels and demons hanging out to ask. Not that any of them ever sleep. Or eat. I guess we’re on our own.”

“Could ask humans?” Aziraphale suggested.

“Psh. What do they know, they sleep because they have to, they eat because they have to. It hasn’t got anything to do with wanting to. They die if they don’t. We don’t.”

They both drank in comfortable silence, finishing the bottle, yet the bottle never emptied. Crowley was well on his way to being sloshed. He had somehow made it down onto the carpet, and his head was on the seat. His shades had long been abandoned and his eyes were closed. His dark hair stuck out in all directions in a way that should not be attractive, yet was. Not that Aziraphale was looking at him, he wasn’t, he just happened to glance up from the book he was reading and noticed his companion. Perfectly normal thing to do. He actually thought Crowley had fallen asleep, when the demon suddenly heaved a big sigh and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling.

“What is it my dear?” Aziraphale placed the book back on his desk, fully paying attention.

“Ever had nightmares?” The question was whispered softly, in a way that made Aziraphale’s heart clench. 

If Crowley noticed the extra-long silence after the question, he didn’t mention it. He just stared at the ceiling and waited for an answer. 

“Once in a while, but like dreams, it’s difficult to remember what they were about.” Aziraphale wasn’t exactly lying, but he wasn’t telling the full truth either. He remembered images of his nightmares. Burned into his brain. Crowley suffering. Crowley being hit by Holy Water. Crowley getting punished for being around the enemy. For fraternizing. They were his worst nightmares. The ones where Crowley was injured, hurt, exorcised, banished, or destroyed and he was forced to watch. Unable to help, call out to, or comfort his friend as he met his end. Nightmares were the reason he didn’t chose to sleep. He couldn’t risk watching those things happen, even in his subconscious. 

Crowley nodded then finally met Aziraphale’s eyes. They stared into each other’s eyes; a nonverbal conversation taking place between them. Neither was sure what they were trying to communicate, yet felt understood somehow. It was Crowley who broke eye contact first, reaching out to finish the last sip of alcohol in his glass. 

“Tell me something angel.” He started and Aziraphale tensed slightly, hoping to God that he wouldn’t have to explain his nightmares. “Does the kind of beer they use change the texture of a beer battered chicken sandwich?”

Glad for the change of topic, Aziraphale and Crowley spend the rest of the night discussing the various beers and how they would improve or deter the taste of said chicken sandwich. They talked until it was more early morning than late night. After not getting an answer to a question he asked, Aziraphale looked over to see that Crowley had actually fallen asleep. He was lying down on the carpet, his head pillowed underneath his arm at an angle that didn’t exactly look comfortable, but he looked at peace. Aziraphale smiled and walked over, pulling one of the blankets over his friend. 

He picked up the book he was reading earlier and flipped it open, he read for a few hours then decided to get another book. He was about to walk away when he saw a sharp movement from the corner of his eye. Crowley had curled into himself and his once peaceful face was scrunched in as if he were in pain. Concerned, Aziraphale made his way over. He heard small whimpers come from his sleeping companion as well as a few mumbled pleas under his breath. Not sure what to do, Aziraphale ran his hand through Crowley’s hair. 

“Shhh, you’re all right Crowley, it’s just a dream.” Crowley stopped mumbling, but his face remained scrunched in a pained expression. An idea occurred to Aziraphale, he wasn’t sure this would work, but he gave it a try anyway. 

“May your dreams be blessed.” 

Crowley flinched a bit as if he had been hit by something, but his brow unfurled and smoothed out; once more having a peaceful sleep. Aziraphale let out a quiet sigh of relief. He wondered if Crowley often struggled with nightmares. Maybe there was something he could do. He slowly and quietly got up and looked around his shop. He had a book around here that may have something that could help his friend. 

There it was. He had a book about different Native American tribes including the Ojibwe or Chippewa tribes. He had always had great respect for their traditions and had sometimes visited some of the tribes on his free time in between the missions sent to him from heaven. He had witnessed how they made the asabikeshiinh for their children and adults, hoping to keep the evils away from them as they slept. In modern days they were called dream catchers. 

He looked over to where Crowley was now peacefully sleeping. Aziraphale had never made one before, but maybe he could make something similar for Crowley. If it would help his friend, it was worth a try. Smiling to himself, he opened the book, some research wouldn’t hurt before he got started. He would let Crowley sleep as much as he needed, and hopefully present him with the gift once he woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all mistakes are purely my own. Feedback as always is greatly appreciated and fuels my writing! Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Aziraphale was well over two hours into his research when he remembered that both he and Crowley had forgotten to sober up. The start of a headache was already forming and he would have none of that. With a thought and a prayer, he got rid of the nasty hangover that would be. Looking over to his companion he realized Crowley didn’t sober up either. His companion had stirred but only to shift positions. It seemed that Aziraphale’s little blessing worked, no more nightmares plagued Crowley for the time being. He slept peacefully ever since and Aziraphale was glad, though his demon didn’t really need sleep, he always seemed in a better mood once he got some rest.

Aziraphale stood up and made his way over to his demon, his friend. He wondered when he started to consider Crowley his. Maybe from always, maybe from the first time he chatted with the one other being so like him yet so unlike him, the only other immortal on the earth. Maybe it was the first time Crowley showed a bit of heart and mercy, ‘not the kids, you can’t kill kids’, he had said so many thousands of years ago. Maybe it was the first time he saved him from discorporating, as Crowley well knew how much he hated paperwork. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but it never felt wrong. Crowley was as much his as he was Crowley’s. It was just the way it was.

He watched over his companion as he slept. Cowley was quite beautiful, much more beautiful than any demon had any right to be. Sure demons were seductive and could tempt even the best of people to go their way, but their appearances were rarely pleasant to look at. Aziraphale had always thought that perhaps Crowley got to keep some of his angelic grace through his looks; after all, Aziraphale had never felt repulsed by looking at him. While asleep, Crowley looked all the more innocent, and Aziraphale could almost picture what he once looked like as an angel. He must have been magnificent. If he was now, as a demon asleep on earth, maybe it was too much for heaven. And Aziraphale quickly stopped himself from following that train of thought, too close to blasphemy. 

Shaking his head, he placed a hand on his demon’s head; Sobering him up while running his fingers through the silky red hair. After all, why ruin a good night’s sleep by waking up with a hangover. Crowley scrunched his face as if in pain, but it was gone in an instant, so maybe Aziraphale imagined it. He ran his fingers through the hair a few more times before getting back up and going back to work. If he wanted to have his project finished, he couldn’t spend all night looking over his friend, no matter how much he wanted to. No, best get to work.   
It took Aziraphale most of the night to do all the research he wanted. Then he got to work actually making the dreamcatcher. He had most of the items to make it in hand thankfully, yarn from where he had wanted to try his hand at knitting. (He ended up being rubbish at it, but Crowley had been able to complete a few projects before deeming himself too damned to be knitting.) He found a wooden hoop from some project or other. Now the feathers were an issue. He had read that only dreamcatchers meant for children had feathers, but he felt compelled to add them anyways. He knew the sacred feathers were now banned from being used, and though he could have miracled some feathers from someplace else, he knew what the right choice was. He used his own feathers and wove them into the dreamcatcher. 

Once finished, Aziraphale admired his work. It was a tad lopsided and not exactly even, but he was proud of it nonetheless. As a finishing touch, he blessed the dreamcatcher, praying that the owner would not be plagued with nightmares or dream terrors. He prayed they would be safe from any subconscious terror around them and be blessed with peaceful sleep. By the time he was done, the dreamcatcher was almost glowing from all of the blessings and love set in it by an angel. Aziraphale smiled proudly at the thing and set it down on his desk. He glanced over at the clock; it was a bit past six in the morning. He was about to get up to see about breakfast, when his phone rang. He rushed to answer it, before it would wake up Crowley.

“Yes?” he whispered into the receiver.

“Mr. Fell? Yes? Hello, I believe I may have found some books that may interest you sir. There’s going to be an estate sale soon and they have many old books. Some of the titles match the list you gave me sir.” The voice on the other end of the phone was a familiar one. It was Tom, one of his…informants. 

Aziraphale had many informants around town. Most of them were homeless and quite needy. He never refused them help and often helped them in any way he could. In return he would sometimes…suggest…that they visit some of the estate sales happening around town. He had given some of them a list of books he was interested in and would reward them when one or more was found. 

‘Seems a little devious, if you ask me’ Crowley had said, obviously delighted at the thought, ‘to condition charity so.”  
‘It’s not conditioned!’ Aziraphale had argued back, ‘It’s positive reinforcement. A job well done deserves an additional reward!’ 

Crowley had only smiled, ‘whatever you say angel’.

“Mr. Fell? Still there?” The voice on the phone cut through Aziraphale’s memory.

“Ah, yes, of course Tom. What’s the address?” he jotted down the address and said his goodbyes, promising to see Tom at the estate. It was all the way across town and the sale would start at eight.

Aziraphale frowned slightly. He wanted to see Crowley’s face when he gave him his present. Oh well. He wrapped the dreamcatcher around a few pages of the paper he had been reading the day before. He left a note for Crowley on top of the wrapped parcel. Quickly putting on his coat, he glanced once more at his sleeping companion before going out the door, locking it after himself. He had books to find.

\---

There were a few strange things with how Crowley woke up. Crowley expected to wake up with a pounding headache. Crowley expected to wake up with a hangover. Crowley expected to wake up with Aziraphale fusing about what to have for breakfast. None of those things happened. Instead Crowley woke up alone, with no headache, and having had some wonderful dreams. For a second after waking up, everything was wonderful; then he tried to get up. 

His entire body hurt. He felt as if he had been struck by lightning, and he would know, it had almost discorporated him a few centuries ago. He curled in on himself and waited for the pain to pass. What had happened last night? He remembered drinking with Aziraphale. Did he fall asleep? Were they attacked?

“Angel?” His voice was a bit croaky after sleep, and the pain probably didn’t help. “Aziraphale?” 

No answer. Crowley took a deep breath, waiting for the pain to pass. After a while it did, leaving behind only a slight tingling sensation throughout his limbs. He had fallen asleep after drinking too much. He remembered the drinking. He remembered wanting to sleep. Why wasn’t he hung over then? 

He stood and walked to Aziraphale’s desk, noticing the note on top of a paper covered thing. 

‘C- My dear, first of all good morning. I hope you slept well. Don’t be startled by the lack of hangover, I sobered both of us last night. The parcel underneath is for you, call it sentimentalism, but perhaps this way you can sleep more soundly. I have gone to an estate sale to find some books. Feel free to stay as long as you want, I will probably return later and perhaps we could do lunch? -A’

Well that did explain the lack of hangover as well as the feeling like he was struck with lightning. Cowley had never, and would never tell his friend, but blessings hurt. If Aziraphale had miracled his hangover away, that explained some of the pain upon waking. 

Crowley looked at the parcel. It was a sloppily wrapped thing; Crowley noticed it was covered in the paper Aziraphale had been reading the day before. He picked it up and it felt warm in his hands. What on hell had the angel gotten him? He opened it and found…

“A dreamcatcher?” he opened it up fully noticing the whiter than white feathers at the end. He knew those feathers. Those were Aziraphale’s. He reached out to touch them, knowing how soft they were so amazingly soft. However as soon as he touched one of them, he felt a sharp pain in his finger. He dropped the dreamcatcher with a yelp, one hand clutching his burning finger. 

He looked at his finger in confusion, a large blister forming on the tip of his index finger where he had touched the feather. He tried to heal it away, surprised when nothing happened. Then it hit him. It was blessed. Heavily heavenly blessed. He wondered if maybe Aziraphale had blessed him last night, that combined with the miraculously healed hangover would explain how he was feeling.

“Oh, Fuck.” The last thing Crowley would want is to hurt Aziraphale’s feelings. He had clearly made the thing for him. Crowley recognized the yarn; it was the left over from their knitting. Crowley was suddenly very glad that his angel was not here. If he had known that his present would hurt Crowley he would feel so terrible. And he would never let Crowley keep it. No, can’t have that. 

Crowley looked around, remembering that Aziraphale had a first aid kit somewhere in his desk. He had gotten one after a little girl fell outside his shop, he had healed her of course, but she still wanted a Band-Aid. After that, Aziraphale had gone out and bought all kinds of Band-Aids and ointments, just in case.

It was obvious that was where Aziraphale had been working last night, there were a few books about dreamcatchers on top and pieces of yarn here and there. Rolling his eyes to prevent the warm smile from spreading across his face, Crowley looked in the bottom drawer. Finding the first aid kit, he pulled out a Band-Aid and some healing ointment from it. He wasn’t sure it would even help, but at least it would prevent it from touching anything. Stupid blister. 

He looked over to the desk and with a snap of his (uninjured) fingers, the mess was clean. He turned back to the dreamcatcher. He couldn’t throw it out; it had Aziraphale’s feathers and his blessings. And it hadn’t hurt his hand, just his finger. He had been holding onto the paper, he realized. He walked over to the thing and crouched down. He poked the paper, bracing for pain, but nothing came. Releasing the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, he tried to move it, pinching the paper between his fingers for a second. Again, no pain. 

“Alright, progress.” He said nodding. Satisfied, he picked the thing up, careful not to touch anything but the paper. He could keep it, just had to not touch it. It would be like the holy water his angel had given him. For emergencies only. 

He wrapped it again fully in the paper before holding it close to his chest, it felt nice and warm. It felt peaceful, it felt like Aziraphale. Yes, he would keep it around. Just couldn’t touch. Ha, yeah, Crowley could do this. He’d been doing that for millennia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come!! let me know if you want me to continue! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all mistakes are purely my own. Feedback as always is greatly appreciated and fuels my writing! Enjoy!

Chapter 3

As soon as he got to his place, Crowley headed for his safe, hidden behind the original Mona Lisa, the one in the Louvre was a clever copy. He had replaced it years ago on a drunken dare by Aziraphale. Well, it hadn’t been so much a dare, more like a drunken challenge. 

‘What are you gonna do? Replace the Mona Lisa?!’ Aziraphale had drunkenly giggled, ‘You’d be found out in an instant.’ 

He had taken the original and replaced it with a smaller copy. He figured it would be hilarious to hear everyone moan and whine about how they thought it would be bigger. And it was hilarious so there. 

Considering he’d had the thing for over a century, Crowley doubted they had noticed a thing. At this point, what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Plus, it looked good in at his place. He opened his safe and carefully placed the bundled dreamcatcher besides the tartan thermos. He looked at the two gifts he had not asked for nor expected to receive with a small smile on his lips. His angel was surprising sometimes. Who would have ever thought an angel would give a blessed dreamcatcher to a demon? Certainly not him. 

All he had to do was keep the thing safely away from him. If Aziraphale ever asked him, he’d say it was working wonderfully. No use hurting his angel’s feelings. Giving his gifts one last smile, he closed the safe. If he wanted to make lunch, he should probably make himself presentable. 

He showered and changed his clothes, making his hair slightly longer and pulling it into a half up do. He placed a snake clip onto the half pony tail. Aziraphale had found the clip and had given it to him as a present after Crowley had found a book he’d been looking for. They did that sometimes, exchange little presents here and there. Mostly books and food for Aziraphale and clothes or accessories for Crowley. 

He looked at his finger after getting out of the shower. It was still blistered but hurt less; maybe the ointment had helped slightly. Sighing, he put some more of the ointment on his finger and replaced the Band-Aid. He would have to hide his finger from Aziraphale, or come up with some clever explanation as to how he had injured his finger. As long as the restaurant they picked didn’t involve eating with just hands, he should be safe.

He fussed around his flat for a bit, threatened a few of his plants that were looking like they wanted to turn slightly yellow, and trolled some people on the internet. He had to wait till lunchtime after all. Once he noticed the time, he got into his Bentley and made his way to Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

Thankfully the angel was back from his, seemingly successful, estate sale.

“Oh Crowley dear, come here! I finally found first editions of two of the books in my list. One of them even has the author’s signature! Come look!” Aziraphale quickly shoved Crowley into the shop and close to his desk. On the top was a stack of new old books. New for Aziraphale, old for this world. Aziraphale showed off his new acquisitions to his demon who ‘ooohd’ and ‘aaahd’ at the appropriate times. 

Once Aziraphale was done fully explaining the beauty and rarity of his new books, which took no less than an hour, not that Crowley minded. He would, and had in the past, listen to Aziraphale rant for hours on end about anything and everything in his shop. 

“Oh though I wish I had been here to see whether you liked your gift.” Aziraphale looked so happy and hopeful, Crowley did the gentle thing, and lied. 

“It was lovely angel, thank you. I took it back to my flat right away.” He smiled and slipped his injured finger into his pocket, hoping his smile was enough of a reassurance that Aziraphale wouldn’t poke and prod more.

“Oh I am glad.” The answering smile Aziraphale gave him was almost blinding. 

Crowley looked away and cleared his throat.

“So, what’s for lunch?” 

\--

They ended up going to a sushi restaurant that Aziraphale guaranteed was downright sinful. 

“Shouldn’t that mean you’re meant to avoid it?” Crowley had teased. “After all gluttony is a sin, you know.”

Aziraphale pretended to consider this before answering, “Gluttony may be a sin, but I am an angel and therefore have to admire the liberality of the chef. After all, liberality is a heavenly virtue. As is admiration; and I do so admire how he prepares the outstanding rolls.”

Crowley smirked; of course his angel would have a clever response on the tip of his tongue. 

“Whatever you say angel.”

They were seated right away, as usual, but this time Crowley knew it wasn’t because of a miracle. They simply loved Aziraphale there. The chef greeted them as they walked in and they were seated right on the sushi bar, where they could see the food being prepared. 

Aziraphale chatted with the chef happily in Japanese. Crowley understood everything they were saying of course, but preferred to watch them interact in silence as he stared at the drinks menu. 

Not that they ordered anything from the menu. Once the chef had them seated and comfortable, he made some of Aziraphale’s favorites and brought them out. He asked Crowley for some of his preferences, but he quickly passed the choosing to his companion. He was the one who ate most of it anyway. 

They also shared a few different kinds of sake as they ate. Though this time it was more to sample and less to get drunk; one hang over per 48 hour period was enough.

Though Aziraphale ate most of the food, Crowley indulged a little bit and sampled each one of the rolls. No need to be rude to the chef, especially one so keen to make his angel happy. 

As they ate, Crowley forgot to not use his finger, and accidentally slammed his blistered finger into the counter. He inhaled sharply and tried to cover it up with a cough as if the food had gone down the wrong pipe, but Aziraphale was quite observative.

“Crowley, are you alright? What’s wrong with your finger?” 

Crowley put his hand under the counter. 

Fuck. Okay time to come up with a brilliant and clever excuse…any second now…

“I..err… got a papercut.” Nailed it.

“A papercut? Why did you not heal it right away? Is that a Band-Aid on your finger?” Aziraphale asked tilting his head at his demon with a confused expression on his face.

Shit, okay yeah. Come on brain, think. Clever. Be clever.

“I cut it on a bible” Man, he was on fire!

Now if the ground would be so kind as to swallow him that would just be peachy.

“You got a papercut from a bible?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Why were you reading a bible?”

“I wasn’t reading it. I just put it away, and it opened and when I picked it up, I got a papercut.” Yeah, that made sense. Sure. “Tried to heal it, but since the blessed thing is- well- blessed…” Crowley trailed off.

“Oh dear, would you like me to take a look at it?” Aziraphale reached out to grab his hand.

“NO!” Crowley pulled his hand behind his back. He scratched the back of his neck. “Eh- you- err- know how these things are- umm. With demons and the holy things. Best to just leave it alone for now. No need to worry yourself angel. Just a papercut.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Aziraphale still looked somewhat concerned, but let the subject drop. 

Time to change the subject. 

“So Angel, tried any new desserts recently?” Crowley may have sounded a tad desperate in his need to change the subject, maybe. 

Aziraphale saw straight through his friend, but humored him nonetheless. 

“As a matter of fact, I did find a lovely French patisserie that makes the most marvelous fruit tarts.”

They finished their meal and paid the bill, with a more than generous tip, before making their way back to the Bentley. As Crowley drove them to the French patisserie, he pretended not to notice Aziraphale looking at his band aided finger with a slight frown on his face. 

Through a small demonic miracle, they found parking right in front of the patisserie. As they made their way inside, Crowley felt Aziraphale reach out and lightly tap his injured hand. Aziraphale could feel that it had in fact been a blessed injury, so he did not try to heal it. They both knew what he was doing, but neither commented on it. Though Aziraphale relaxed slightly, having confirmed that the injury was in fact minor. As much as he wanted to help, when the wounds were holy, there wasn’t much he could do. 

They instead sat down and ate some dessert. Crowley had to admit, it was quite delicious. They chatted on about how this patisserie compared to others they had been to in years past. Their conversation back to the good-natured easy way it has always been. 

After dessert, Crowley drives them back to the bookshop.

“Care to come in for a nightcap?” Aziraphale offers, but doesn’t get out of the car yet.

“Better not angel, I want to get some sleep in my own bed and I know you’re itching to get your hands into those new books of yours.” 

“I am rather looking forward to reading some of those again, yes. All right, see you soon then?” His eyes questioning but hopeful.

“I have to check in with the dark council and give them an update tomorrow, but yeah, unless they send me to do a specific task. But I’ll let you know either way.” Crowley hated having to go down there, but check-ins were necessary if he expected to be left alone. “When do you have to go upstairs?” He poked the roof of his car with his uninjured finger.

“Oh, I suppose I should check in with them soon. But not tomorrow, I simply have too much to do.” Aziraphale looked thoughtful.

Crowley knew that the ‘too much to do’ was to read through all the books his angel had just picked up. Crowley felt something warm stir in his chest at the fact that though Aziraphale was willing to put talking to heaven on hold, he had still given up looking at his books to keep their lunch date. He tried to clench his chest to prevent the feeling from turning into a grin or worse a blush. 

“Right, okay. Goodnight angel” Crowley said, avoiding eye contact.

Aziraphale got out of the car but before the door closed said, “Goodnight my dear, sweet dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being a lot more domestic and angst/hurt less than I anticipated, but its what came out of my brain when I sat down to write! If you want to read more hurt!Crowley, stick around! more is coming!! Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave kudos and comments, you have no idea how much they mean to me and how they make my day!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to sneak in a slight Supernatural reference!   
> This chapter was a bit hard to write as I am not very good at writing whump but I tried also this chapter ended up a lot longer than I intended! let me know if it worked! Also there is a slight TW for self harm. Not overly stated, but I feel a lot more comfortable placing it than not. I am also not a medical professional, so any inaccuracies for the treatment come from my lack of knowledge!   
> Any and all mistakes are purely my own. Feedback as always is greatly appreciated and fuels my writing! Enjoy!

Chapter 4

The following morning, Crowley woke up feeling refreshed and quite happy. He had dreamt of wonderful things throughout the night and wasn’t bothered by a single thing all night. He briefly considered if that was due to the dreamcatcher, or just a coincidence. Probably a coincidence, better not dwell on that. He had things to do today. 

He got ready for his meeting with head office slowly, taking his time and making sure he was running appropriately late. Couldn’t very well show up on time for a meeting. What sort of demon would do that?

Once he was respectably late, he headed out to main office. He quite liked the entrance to hell, but being in hell was a different thing entirely. Everything was so cramped and dark and foul to look at. He hated the feeling of all those demons bumping into him. He was glad not to have worn any of his favorite pieces as a demon passing by left a slimy residue on his shoulder. Damn salamanders.

He got to the meeting room and sauntered in confidently, not letting an ounce of his nerves show. 

“Hey guys, bit late am I? Hope you weren’t waiting long.” He said, though he knew he was exactly 69 minutes late, as was his custom. 

“Crowley” Hastur started but then stopped and sniffed the air, “Uhg you smell- oh- can anyone else smell that?”

The other demons in the room scrunched their faces as they too smelled the air around Crowley.

“Oh yeah, some lower class demon bumped me in the corridor. Though how you can smell that above anything is more surprising.” Crowley said straightening his glasses.   
“Not that” Lord Beelzebub exclaimed placing a hand under nose to cover up the stench, “you smell- blessed- almost Holy.” They spat out as if the word itself was a nasty thing to have leave one’s mouth. 

Crowley tried not to tense up, he didn’t think the blessing Aziraphale had placed on him would leave a lingering smell, especially not after two days. 

“Oh that! Yes, well see, the last temptation I had to do, you know the one with the vicar? Yes that one took a bit for it to take hold. Had to keep chasing the man. But in the end I was of course successful and we will have him in a number of years.” He lied smoothly. He had only looked in on the vicar once and he had already fallen from grace before he got there. Aziraphale had gotten him drunk after Crowley told him he was too late. 

“The scent is almost angelic though- did you have a run in with the ang- with the opposition?” Lord Beelzebub demanded.

Crowley and Aziraphale had long ago agreed, that if their side suspected contact, to play dumb. It usually worked, since neither of their respective offices really cared to check.

“I guess maybe that’s why it could have taken longer.” Crowley shrugged, “A vicar does pray every day-” he trailed off. 

The assembled demons all gagged at the thought of purposely praying. 

“Very well. Now how go the rest of the assignments?” Lord Beelzebub pulled out a list.

Crowley held back a suffering sigh. This was going to be a long meeting.

\--

After the meeting was finally over, and really, did Hastur and Ligur have to make a PowerPoint presentation about their so called ‘proper demonic acts’? With 120 slides?! And horrible transitions in between each one?!?

After that was finally done, all Crowley wanted to do was go home and water his plants. Maybe scare them a bit, they were taking too long to bloom after all. 

“Crowley” Lord Beelzebub called out, just before he could make his escape.

“Yes Lord?” 

“Why don’t you hang back? It must be so- mundane- to be on the surface. Stay for a bit of entertainment. We have a soul delivery happening in a bit and I know you haven’t gotten any proper entertainment up there.” He said frowning as he pointed up.

Crowley bit down on his cheek, hoping the expression came out more as a thoughtful consideration, rather than a desperate panic.

“Thank you my lord, but there’s so much to do-” he tried to explain.

“It wasn’t a question Crowley, it was an order.” Well that was that attempt dead.

“Absolutely, it would be an honor. Great!” He smiled, or maybe he just bared his teeth, wither way Lord Beelzebub looked pleased.

They all made their way to a much larger room. This one looked like a mix between an old time operation theater and a gladiator rink. The floor was covered in bits and pieces of flesh and other substances and there wasn’t a single spot that wasn’t blood covered. 

Crowley was glad that he was wearing his sunglasses for they gave him at least a little cover from the horrors that were inside the chamber. He was made to sit in between Ligur and Hastur. Crowley tried very hard to look as if he were bored and relaxed, while inside all he wanted to do was run away.

“Oh look Crowley, you’re in for a treat! Its Alastair doing the welcoming. This is a good day to come watch!” Hastur’s elbow poked at his side hard enough to bruise and Crowley could only send him a fake smile and a thumb up.

“’Bout time you got to let go and enjoy some demonic pleasures. It must be terrible having to pretend to be human all the time.” Ligur said clapping him on the shoulder. 

“Y-Yeah, haven’t gotten anything like this up top.” Crowley said bracing himself for what he was about to witness. He was glad he hadn’t bothered to eat anything that day, knowing Alastair and his ‘methods’. 

“Demons great and small, welcome to another soul delivery. This evening we have Crowley joining us, so do us a favor Alastair- make it a good one.” Lord Beelzbub’s sneer was a frightening sight to begin with but the smile that Alastair answered with made Crowley’s blood run cold and the hair on the back of his neck to stand on edge.

“It would be my pleasure my lord.”

Crowley gulped, closed his eyes, and wished to anyone who was listening that it would be over soon.

It wasn’t.

\--

By the time Crowley got back to his flat, the sun was well on its way to setting. He did not remember any of the drive back to his place. Only barely remembering to lock his car as he parked it in front. He was numb. The horrors he had just been forced to witness burned into his mind and soul. He felt dirty.

He made his way into his foyer, his plants gave a small shake as they sensed him back, but he didn’t have the energy to even open his mouth, let alone yell. Not today. 

He tossed his phone onto his bed then walked into his shower, turning it to the hottest it could be. He watched the water fall and the steam flow out. He turned to look at himself in the mirror. He was still wearing his glasses. He reached out to pull them from his face and stared at himself. He did not look any different from this morning, if a bit more exhausted. How could he look the same when he felt so different? He set down the glasses on his counter. He was glad he had worn them today. They allowed him to close his eyes as some of the gruesome things took place. He wished he could have not watched any of it, but he knew he was being watched.

Lord Beelzebub had stared at him for most of the delivery. Ligur and Hastur also watched and commented on the horrors taking place. And he was forced to go along with it, to cheer when they did, to comment, to pretend to be entertained when all he felt was sick. 

As he glanced up once more, he just managed to see himself shed the first of his tears before the steam fogged up his mirror and his reflection got distorted. Either that or the tears, Crowley didn’t know. 

He turned around and walked, fully clothed, into the shower. Maybe this would cleanse him of some of the terribleness he had just witnessed. Maybe this would warm up his chilled soul. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood under the hot spray of water; it never went cold, simply because he imagined it wouldn’t. The tears were washed away by the water and his sobs muffled by the spray. Once he felt a bit warmer, he continued with the shower, vanishing his clothes away with a snap of his fingers. By the time he was done with his shower, he felt exhausted. He snapped on his favorite silk pajamas and headed for bed. He hoped he would be able to sleep tonight. He hoped the images would stop flashing in his mind for just a second. He lay in bed for a long while, just staring at the ceiling flinching every time his traitorous brain conjured up another image of torture.

It was a long time before he managed to fall asleep. 

\--

Crowley expected nightmares, it would be strange not to have them after the day he had. At first they were mostly bearable; he would dream himself as one of the many souls that had been delivered to Alastair; not pleasant, but bearable. He woke up screaming or flinching only to turn and try to sleep once more. It was worth trying again until his subconscious turned the nightmare dial to torturous.

He stopped picturing himself as the soul and in his place was his angel. Seeing Aziraphale go through the torture, scream in pain, bleeding onto the floor, was much more than Crowley could bear. He tried to wake up, imagined himself waking up, and forced himself to wake up, only to be stuck in the nightmarish loop. Instead of waking up, Aziraphale would be healed, appearing as the next soul, only to go through the torture all over again. Crowley cried and wept and screamed, wanting to save his angel, but being unable to reach him. He ran full force, but no matter how much he pushed, how much he screamed and begged, he was stuck in the same spot. Watching it all happen, unable to help.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley screamed, “Please Alastair let him go, take me instead. You can do anything you want- please- please just let him go!” He pleaded, tears running down his face. 

His screaming pleas were not loud enough to drown out Aziraphale’s screams of agony. He turned to look at Crowley, golden blood running down his lips, “C-Cro-Crowley. Why?” he tried to say, choking on the blood in his mouth. His eyes so sad and betrayed.

And suddenly it was Crowley who was holding the knife, his hands covered in Aziraphale’s blood. He dropped the knife in his hands as if it had burned him. 

“Why?” Aziraphale whispered his breath coming in shaky rasps before it stilled. His blue eyes unseeing fixed on Crowley.

“NO!” 

Crowley shot up in bed. His sheets were wrapped all around him, trapping his shaking body. He was crying and had been for a long time. Before he could really think about it, he was running out of bed. In his hurry, he failed to notice the sheets had wrapped around his legs, but he couldn’t feel the pain as he landed on the floor. He needed comfort. 

He untangled himself from the sheets and ran to his safe. It took several tries before his shaking hands let him put in the correct combination. His breath was still shaky as he reached out to touch the paper covered parcel within. 

It was warm in his hands, even before he tore the paper off. He let out a gasp as he clutched the dreamcatcher in both his hands, not really feeling the pain; instead he felt the blessing sweep through his body. And for the first time since he came back from hell, he felt at peace. 

“Aziraphale” he whimpered as his knees finally gave out under him. He fell onto the floor and into a fetal position, still silently crying. He wasn’t sure how long he just laid there on the floor, clutching the dreamcatcher. When he finally felt a bit calmer, he let go of it, letting it softly land on the floor. 

He stared at the dreamcatcher until his tears dried, his mind finally liberating him from those haunting images. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep once more, but was blessedly not plagued with any more nightmares.

\--

There was a noise… a familiar repetitive noise… he knew that noise. But what was it? Where was he?

Consciousness slowly crept up on him. He opened his eyes, expecting to be in bed, instead, he was in his office, on the floor. He felt confused and out of sorts. Then he heard the noise again.

His phone was ringing.

He turned his head slightly and caught sight of the dreamcatcher, and then the pain struck him. His hands hurt…and boy was that an understatement.

‘Hi, this is Anthony Crowley, you know what to do, do it with style’ his answering machine took the call.

“Crowley? Are you there dear?” Aziraphale’s voice came through the machine and Crowley scrambled up to pick up the receiver, momentarily forgetting his hands.

He picked up the receiver, trying to ignore how it slipped on the black blood that covered his hands and held back a scream as the pain got worse.

“A-Angel” he sounded awful.

“Cowley? Are you alright? You sound terrible.” Aziraphale’s concern was palpable even through the phone.

Crowley let out a sigh of relief at hearing his angel’s voice, he was safe and sound. At the same time, he grit his teeth to try and make his voice not sound as agony filled as he was.

“Ye yeah, fine. I just woke up” the phone was shaking in his hand, or was it his hands that were shaking?

“You just woke up? I was worried, you said you’d call after your meeting.” He had promised that.

“Yeah, but I fell asleep right after, sorry angel.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale trailed off, worry still dripping from his voice, “that was two days ago dearest. Are you sure you’re alright? Shall I come over?”

“NO! Err- that is- no, no need angel. I can meet you for lunch somewhere” he looked at the clock on his desk, “I mean dinner.”

“If you’re sure? Meet in my bookshop in an hour?” Aziraphale asked not entirely convinced.

“Yes, I will be there. See you soon.” Crowley hung up before the yelp could leave his throat. He stared up at the ceiling and braced himself, trying to settle his breathing. Then he looked down at his hands.

Both hands were a mess. He could see the shape of the dreamcatcher clearly burned through the layers of skin and muscle on his palms. There were blisters and black blood visible through several spots though his palms and fingers where he had held onto it. He could only gasp in pain as he finally saw the extent of the damage. He hadn’t even felt it the night before, more concerned with rubbing those horrifying images from his brain. He stared at the dreamcatcher once more, thinking it would be covered in blood and pieces of skin, but it was as clean and perfect as the moment it was gifted to him. He was about to reach out for it but thought it better to first take care of his hands, then pick it up.

He made his way to the bathroom shaking hands in front of him. He wasn’t sure where to start. He couldn’t miracle this injury away, no way for a demon to heal blessed injuries. He could still feel some of it burning, so he decided to treat it like any human would a burn. He turned the faucet on; using the back of his hand, making sure the water was neither too cold nor too hot. He took a few deep breaths, steadying himself, before placing his hands under the stream.

He couldn’t help himself, he screamed. His breathing labored and whimpers leaving him without conscious thought, he held them there until the burning sensation left and in its place was only pain. At least there was no more blood on his hands, but the blisters and the raw flesh on his palms and fingers was still a gruesome sight. 

He carefully dried his hands with a cloth before applying some burn ointment he miracled from the nearest hospital. He had also nicked a few bandages and he slowly covered his hands with them. Once that was done, he changed his clothes. He didn’t need to snap to make his demonic miracles happen, but it had always been a choice for him. It felt slightly anticlimactic without it, but it would have to do. 

Now his hands, he couldn’t possibly show up with bandages covering his palms and fingers and expect Aziraphale to not ask questions. He briefly considered placing a small mirage on them so they simply wouldn’t catch the angel’s attention, but that felt wrong. He had never used his powers against the angel in any way, and to do so now, even if it was to spare him pain, did not feel right. Besides, Aziraphale was bound to be more observant since he felt that something was wrong with him. If he felt the extra demonic aura surrounding him, he would know in an instant that something was wrong.

He chose instead to will some soft leather gloves onto his hands, the soft pressure only slightly more painful than it was before. Once he was ready, he glanced at the clock; it had taken him almost 45 minutes to deal with his hands, now he had to slightly rush to not be late to meet his angel. 

He really wanted to get a cab to Aziraphale’s bookshop, but if he turned up without his Bentley, it would be a dead giveaway. He made his way to his car, and sat down, door opening and closing behind him with a thought. He leaned his head back onto the seat and took a deep breath. Allowing himself a moment of weakness before bracing himself to look and act as normal as possible.

Releasing the deep breath, he sat up on his car, “Right” he said clearing his throat and slipping the mask of nonchalance over his face. “Let’s go baby.” He said and the engine roared to life. And if his Bentley tuned this way and that without his hands needing to touch the steering wheel, well no one was there to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it. Did it work? shall I keep going? Please leave feedback and let me know!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all mistakes are purely my own. Feedback as always is greatly appreciated and fuels my writing! Enjoy!

Chapter 5

He made his way to the bookshop in time, clock just passing the hour mark when he parked his Bentley. He looked over into the bookshop and noticed Aziraphale watching from one of the windows. He quickly pulled himself together to look the definition of nonchalant. He imagined his hands did not hurt one bit, so at least for the moment, they didn’t. 

As he climbed out of the car Aziraphale made his way out to the front door. It swung open and Crowley was faced with a critical once over by his angel.

“Liking the outfit?” Crowley asked as he rotated 180 in front of Aziraphale.

“Yes, but never mind that. Are you alright?” Aziraphale’s worry was almost palpable in the air. 

“I’m great, I just took a longer nap than I intended, hell wore me out I suppose.” Cowley shrugged and made his way into the shop, Aziraphale close at his heel.

“Longer than- Crowley, you slept for two days straight!” Aziraphale’s blue eyes shining and face scrunched. 

“Oh come on angel, I’ve slept for centuries and you’re making a fuss over a couple of days?” Crowley raised an eyebrow over the brim of his glasses. 

Aziraphale didn’t look convinced, so Crowley quickly changed the subject to something that would distract Aziraphale.

“Though I might admit, sleeping for that long made me a bit peckish” he leaned against the wall, “Know anywhere good we could go?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer right away and for a horrifying moment, Crowley thought not even food would be a distraction. Aziraphale stared at him for a few moments before sighing and finally looking away.

“There is a Thai place that only opened last week that has gotten glowing reviews. Care to try some curry? I heard the spicy one is delightfully evil and delicious.” ‘Like someone I know’ Aziraphale didn’t add.

“Delightfully evil and delicious?” Crowley tipped his head to the side and pretended to think about it, “Sounds intriguing. Tell me more on the way.”

They made their way out of the shop and into the car with no further fuss. Aziraphale gave him directions on where the place was located. He could have used the GPS on his phone, but although he invented the ‘recalculating’ feature, he hated being the one on the receiving end of it. And besides, it allowed him to drive slightly less erratic, and if Aziraphale thought it was his doing instead of the pain in his hands, Crowley was alright with it. 

“So deliciously evil and delicious, shoot” Crowley said as they both found themselves seated immediately despite the very long line of customers outside.

“Apparently, they use this specific kind of chili which doesn’t taste spicy until you’ve drank water. And the thing is so delicious, you just tuck in and before you know it, it hits. And then of course the first thing you reach for is water. Honestly sounds like your kind of dish, that you’d like I mean, not that you made. Though it would be like you to create something like this.” Aziraphale mock glared at his companion.  
Crowley once more shrugged as he looked through the menu, “Eh, might have done yeah. Wasn’t my doing though, let me taste it, then I’ll see if I take credit.”

They placed their food order and Crowley made sure to get them a bottle of Song Sam whiskey. He figured his imagination could take his pain away for the beginning of the meal, and then let the whiskey take over afterwards. 

“Is something wrong Crowley?” Aziraphale once more asked.

“Perfectly perfect angel, cheers.” He answered as he chugged the first glassful of whiskey. He poured himself a second and drank that too, before asking, “Why’d you ask?”

Aziraphale held his glass, as he too drained it in one go. “It’s just been several decades at least, since I’ve seen you wear gloves. Why are you wearing gloves, indoors no less?”

Crowley tried not to still his movements at all; sure that one small misstep would surely topple him. “Come now Aziraphale! It’s been ages since that rule went out. We can wear whatever we want now. Plus they’re fashionable now.” Kind of true, fingerless gloves were back in style at least, not that Aziraphale would know anything about current fashion. 

“Maybe so, but while eating?”

Shit, point to Aziraphale. 

“Maybe not, but when have I ever been known to follow rules eh?” Crowley quickly topped off his glass as well as Aziraphale’s, maybe if he got him drunk, he would stop asking questions. He sent a small demonic miracle to the kitchen to get their appetizers out now.

Once the waitress appeared with food, Aziraphale was mercifully distracted enough to drop the line of questions. Though he did keep glancing at him throughout the entire dinner, watching him for any kind of- well anything really. Aziraphale knew there was something wrong with him; just couldn’t pin point what it was.

For his part, Crowley was quite proud of himself. He had not flinched, winced, or let out any kind of sign that his hands were in agony. It seemed his imagination and whiskey could only do so much. He followed along with Aziraphale’s conversation as best as he could, but he was distracted. He was so focused on keeping the pain away from his face; he didn’t notice his hands were shaking. 

It became obvious how much, once their curry bowls arrived, the previously recommended for Crowley and a green one for Aziraphale. Crowley tried to take a first bite, but missed stabbing the chicken piece twice before knocking the fork into the side of the bowl.

Shit. Maybe Aziraphale hadn’t noticed. Crowley glanced at his friend from behind his glasses. He was staring at Crowley’s hands. Fuck. 

Clearing his throat, Crowley finally managed to stab the chicken and taste the damned thing. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Damn, you were right, this is quite good.” Crowley said, shoving more food into his face. And it was quite tasty. “How’s yours? More whiskey?” he topped off their glasses one more time and handed Aziraphale his. 

Aziraphale took the glass and drank from it, but he did not drain it like Crowley did, he only took a small sip before setting it down. He stared unblinkingly at Crowley’s hands for a moment, and Crowley used every ounce in his being to not let them shake as he continued to eat. 

Aziraphale wanted to bring it up, something was wrong with his friend and he knew it. And Crowley knew that he knew it. But on the other hand, Crowley was actually eating, something he rarely did, so Aziraphale let it go, at least until they finished their dinner.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale seemed to reach a decision and thought up a million excuses to a million questions that could be posed. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth, and saw the minute flinch out of the corner of his eye. 

“Crowley dear?” he started.

“Yeah?” Crowley tried to sound offhand and bored, but it came out tight and strained.

“This curry is simply divine, you must try it.” He held out a forkful of the green curry up to Crowley.

Dumfounded, Crowley could only lean over and take the food into his mouth. And while it was quite delicious, Crowley could only stare at his angel. He knew the other shoe would drop eventually, but for now at least, it seemed to be pushed off to the side.

‘Please let it last’ Crowley prayed to whoever was listening.

\--

It lasted until Aziraphale finished his dessert. Crowley hadn’t gotten anything. The pain in his hands so strong now, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold anything else. They chatted a bit more as they ate, but with his angel’s focused stare burning a hole through him, any topic was touched on lightly and silence stretched. 

Once Aziraphale placed the last bite of dessert into his mouth and brought the spoon back onto the empty plate, Crowley knew he would be in for it.

Aziraphale savored the last bite with his eyes closed and Crowley held his breath. 

“There’s something wrong with you Crowley.” Aziraphale said, his eyes still closed. They opened and Crowley was pinned to his chair with the intensity of his stare. “And now you will tell me what it is.” 

It wasn’t a question.

Crowley swallowed. He considered stopping time, running away, setting the place on fire, falling off his chair, and a million other ways to distract his angel, but knew none of them would work. Not for long enough for him to truly avoid this. 

“I- I don’t-” he tried to begin saying.

“No, you will not lie to me about this.” Once again not a question.

Cowley slumped in his seat. He wanted to wring his hands in nervousness, but knew the agony that would bring. Instead they stayed on top of his thighs, where they had been since he finished his meal.

“Okay, look angel-” He was cut off as Hells Bells by AC/DC started playing in his pocket. It was his ringtone for the Dark Council.

He had imagined his cell phone ringing and for a second wondered if he’d somehow miracled it to ring. Aziraphale looked torn between wanting him to answer it and take the phone and smash it. Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled the phone out and yeah- the Dark Council was calling him.

“Sorry, gotta take this.” Crowley said as he stood up. Last thing he’d want is for the Dark Council to somehow know he was in the presence of an actual angel. 

He walked away from the table and into the corridor where the restrooms were and willed his phone to answer. No way for him to do it with his gloves on.

“Crowley.” He answered, wondering if he’d done anything that would get him in trouble. There was no way for them to know he had been burned by blessing right? Unless someone was watching him. He quickly scanned the restaurant, but although some of the patrons reeked of sin, there were no other demons in it other than him. 

“Demon, we have a new assignment for you. Denmark has been too quiet as of late and we don’t like it. Go make something happen. We expect results by this time tomorrow.” and with that, they hung up.

Right. Weird, he usually got his assignments via demon network. It had been ages since they actually contacted him. He didn’t put down the phone from where he held it yet. Aziraphale was looking at him, a curious and mildly concerned expression on his face. Maybe this was his way out. If the order came from the Dark Council, there was no way out. He needed to get to Denmark, now. 

He put down the phone and back into his pocket. He straightened up and walked back over to their table. 

“I took care of the bill while you took your call.” Aziraphale said motioning to the chair so Crowley would sit once more.

Crowley knew if he sat down, he would have to talk. Nope. Can’t have that. 

“Thanks. That was the Dark Council. They’re sending me to Denmark.” Crowley said straight to the point.

“Denmark? What’s in Denmark?” 

“Too much peace and quiet I suppose. I have orders though and they’re expecting results in less than a day so I have to get going.” 

Aziraphale stood from his seat and they made their way back to the Bentley. 

“Are you driving? Can I come?” Aziraphale’s concern was once more drowning Crowley.

“I can’t drive, even if I wanted to, they said results by this time tomorrow, so I guess I’ll have to fly there. Plane not wings.” Crowley said as Aziraphale opened his mouth to ask, “And I don’t think you should come. I haven’t gotten direct orders like this in a while, so they may be eyes on me as I carry it out. Best to not draw attention to our arrangement.” 

Crowley drove fast, his usual reckless self on the way back to the bookshop. Pain be damned, the quicker he got Aziraphale back to the shop, the less questions he would ask.

“So what do they expect you to do in Denmark?” Aziraphale clung to the door as Crowley took a turn sharply.

“Cause some sort of distress I imagine. They’re not sending me to sight see that’s for sure.” Crowley shrugged and sped up a bit more. 

“Did something happen in your meeting with them that could have prompted this?” Aziraphale was clearly trying to make sense of the situation. 

Better that than his current state, Crowley figured.

“I don’t know, I got lectured on proper demonic behavior, but that’s nothing new.” Five more minutes and they would be back in the shop.

“You never did say what caused you so much distress you slept for two days straight.” Aziraphale flinched as they almost hit a pedestrian. “And don’t try to say you weren’t distressed. You only oversleep when you are stressed or sad.”

He paused.

“Or injured.” Crowley felt Aziraphale once more look over him.

Fuck. His angel knew him too well. Maybe he could avoid telling the full truth if he told part of it.

“They made me watch souls be delivered. Told me I should enjoy some ‘proper demonic entertainment’. Alastair was the master of ceremony.” Crowley shuddered, “not pretty.” 

Aziraphale felt his heart clench. Though Crowley was a demon, he was very much against murder or torture. He knew how much Crowley must have suffered witnessing those heinous acts happening right in front of him. The demons probably expected him to cheer and enjoy himself, and Crowley must have pretended to, but been in agony watching. It explained some of what Aziraphale saw, but not all. 

He had known Crowley for as long as they had both been on Earth. If he didn’t know any better, he would guess his friend was hiding being in pain; and a lot of it. Crowley had always been good at disguising his discomfort.  
Aziraphale remembers the time in Rome when Crowley had almost gotten discorporated because he failed to point out he had been ‘slightly stabbed’ during a gladiator match. It had taken quite a large miracle for him to not die in Aziraphale’s arms. Stubborn demons and their pride. 

“Oh dearest, I am so sorry.” Aziraphale reached out to touch his friend, only to be shoved away by Crowley’s driving.

Crowley silently thanked his Bentley. If Aziraphale touched him now, he would know and would never let him go to Denmark.

2 more minutes. He sped up a little more.

“I’ll live angel.” Crowley wasn’t sure of he was talking about what he saw, or his hands, but it didn’t feel like a lie as he said it. Maybe it was for both.

He parked the Bentley in front of the bookshop. Aziraphale opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it with a small shake of his head. He got out of the car and walked over to the passenger side. The passenger side window rolled down, and Crowley lovingly stroked the steering wheel. He poked his arm and head out as Aziraphale turned to face him.

“Oh do be careful in Denmark my dear. Do you know when you’ll be back?”

Crowley shrugged, “Depends on how much they expect me to do, I suppose. And don’t worry; I won’t cause any horrible terror, maybe just cause a major scandal or something.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to do anything worse my dear.” Aziraphale stood straight up, “Safe travels.”

As he said this, he placed a hand on Crowley’s arm, and then he flinched as he felt the amount of hurt his friend was in. He pulled his hand away, but before he could do or say anything, Crowley high tailed it away from him. The Bentley flying off into the night.

“Crowley” Aziraphale whispered after him. 

As soon as he touched his friend he felt all of the pain his demon was in. How could he be in that much pain and be standing? How had he gotten that hurt? Why did he not say anything? Aziraphale almost miracle himself into Crowley’s flat, but if any of the demons were watching or expecting Crowley, it would only end badly for both. There was no way Crowley would be able to defend himself in his state. Why was he in such a state? Why had he not healed himself? Demons weren’t very skilled in the healing arts, but Aziraphale knew from experience, that Crowley was an exception to the rule. It had saved Aziraphale more than once. 

A terrifying thought popped into Aziraphale’s mind. Perhaps Crowley couldn’t heal it. That meant one thing, the injury was holy. And though it pained to admit it, as brief as the touch had been, Aziraphale recognized the blessing in his demon’s body.

It was his. 

\--

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Aziraphale had touched him. Aziraphale knew. There was no way his angel would not be able to feel what was wrong with him. Crowley cursed in all the languages he knew to calm his nerves; it took most of the drive to his flat; he was quite multilingual after all. 

He made his way into his flat and willed his travel suitcase to pack itself for him. He didn’t really need one, but he found it drew more attention to him when he traveled without a case than when he did. Best to avoid suspicious humans.

Thankfully there was a red eye he could catch that was leaving soon. He was about to close his suitcase when he remembered his passport was in his office. He went into the room and stopped short when he saw the dreamcatcher still on the floor. He should leave it in the safe at least. He picked it up and it didn’t burn him, thankfully he was still wearing his gloves. He placed it on his desk as he found his passport. Once he found it, he willed it into the suitcase with the rest of his clothes. He stared at the dreamcatcher.

He shouldn’t bring it with him. What if there was another demon in Denmark and they saw it. They could take it from him and destroy it. They could take it apart and use the feathers for some nefarious purpose. Plus if he held it any longer with his bare hands, they may fall off. He definitely should not take it. Definitely not. He reached over as if to close his suitcase. Then he turned back to the dreamcatcher.

Fuck it. 

He picked it up and put it carefully on top of his things and closed the suitcase. He never had been good at following rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I sat down to write this chapter fully intending for it to be the last one where Aziraphale finally finds out....instead I wrote this. oops! I guess the plot bunny isn't done dragging me! Hopefully the next chapter will be the conclusion! Thank you to everyone who has commented and left Kudos, they make my day! they also encourage me to keep writing, you guys are awesome!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in this conclusion!! I just moved out of town and it was a mess that's still not completely solved, but I needed to finish this story!   
> Thank you everyone for your feedback, the amount I have received has been overwhelming in the best way possible!   
> Any and all mistakes are purely my own. Feedback as always is greatly appreciated and fuels my writing! Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Cowley was in Denmark two weeks.

Every day of those two weeks, Aziraphale frantically checked any and all resources with any type of news about Denmark. He was worried that hell would make Crowley do something unthinkable, Crowley would never do it himself. 

The second day Crowley was gone; Aziraphale found what demonic act his demon was doing. He sent the entire Denmark banking security and tore it to shreds. The largest banking scandal in all of Europe. A money laundering scheme adding upwards of $250 billion. 

Large scandal indeed. Crowley did have a flair for scandal and mayhem. 

Aziraphale wrestled with himself as to whether or not he should just miracle himself to Denmark and to hell with everyone, but then he remembered that could be a real possibility and hesitated. He was not sure if any agents of hell were there with Crowley, and though he had tried to reach his demon through any way possible- email, phone calls, letters, telegrams, he even texted him for God’s sake- there was no response. 

After the first week, Aziraphale was close to losing his mind. Crowley and he had not spoken for longer before, and time was never something either of them really bothered with, but Aziraphale knew this was different. 

Crowley was hurt.

He knew there had been something wrong with Crowley before he left. He seemed injured somehow, tense and shaky, neither of which was usual for his friend. Crowley liked to lounge wherever he sat and spewed nonchalance from every pore in his body- usually. During dinner however, he tried to lounge but when a waiter bumped into him, he had flinched upright and kept his posture ramrod straight for the rest of the evening. And then there were his hands. Crowley was wearing gloves, something he rarely did now that they weren’t in style. Not only did he keep them covered the whole evening, but also out of sight whenever he could. 

After he had finished eating, Crowley had placed his hands on his lap and not moved them an inch until his phone went off. To anyone watching, it might seem like a typical thing to do, but not to Aziraphale. Not when it came to Crowley. Crowley had a habit of just watching Aziraphale as he finished his meal. Not Aziraphale’s fault that Crowley not only ate very little, but also ate it fast. (Aziraphale always suspected it was mostly due to his serpentine nature, but kept it to himself.)

And then when they said goodbye and Aziraphale had touched him, he knew. Crowley was very hurt. Had burned his hands into such a state, when Aziraphale touched him, he could not believe his friend was acting like nothing was wrong. And that hadn’t even been the worst realization. That came when he recognized the blessing behind those gruesome injuries.

It was his.

He had caused those burns. He had somehow hurt his friend. It took Aziraphale a moment to think of how he could have been responsible for those injuries. Then he remembered.

The dreamcatcher.

That must have been it. And that hurt to realize. He had so lovingly made it for his friend only for it to hurt him. Aziraphale knew, for a demon, any demon really, to be so hurt by a blessing; it would have to be held in place for a long time. Aziraphale himself had witnessed some…interrogation techniques (torture, though he would never dare say it) heaven had used against demons. Usually a rosary or a crucifix sometimes diluted holy water, whatever the weapon, the wounds were the same, grisly burns throughout the place where the item was held or pushed into. 

Crowley had them in his hands, so he must have held onto it. God only knew for how long. But why? Why hadn’t he let go? Why let it burn him so badly? 

Aziraphale had a million questions and no answers. He needed to see Crowley. But he was still in Denmark.

Throughout their years together, they noticed that they could each tell where the other was anywhere. It did not matter if they were separated by a wall, or a million kilometers, they had a sense of where the other was located. This had been how Crowley had saved his skin time and time again, and Aziraphale gladly returned the favor whenever needed.

Two weeks of anxiously waiting for any sign of Crowley, Aziraphale felt him come back. It was strange though, even though he could feel Crowley was back in England, he felt almost fuzzy. It was like his aura was not all there. That terrified Aziraphale and increased his anxiety level, though it was already through the roof.

Aziraphale waited for half an hour to hear anything from his demon. If he didn’t hear from Crowley in exactly 30 minutes, he would miracle himself into whatever room his friend was in. 

He needed answers.

\--

Crowley miracled himself into his flat, he didn’t have the energy to deal with flights or security checks or anything. He miracled himself home- then he almost passed out where he stood.

Every inch of his body hurt. Those two weeks had been rough. He thankfully wasn’t followed or even joined by anyone in Denmark. They let him do his job in peace- well this is hell we’re talking about so peace is a relative term. While there was no one there physically, he was expected to check in with the Dark Council and provide results. They had granted him a day extension when he spelled out his plan, making sure to sell it as best as possible. They were disappointed that he did not choose to cause a riot or send in a plague of some kind. They were expecting blood, they wanted blood.

Crowley explained that money would hurt them more. It was the life blood of society after all, and to see so much of it be laundered would cause a scandal. The Dark Council agreed, though they still suggested he also slip in some temptations and other sins wherever he could, especially some torture. 

If Crowley was torturing anyone, it was himself.

Literally. 

Perhaps it was his demonic nature, but he could not help falling into temptation every night. The dark council cheered him in his endeavors, thinking he was talking about carnal pleasures, oh if only they knew. He fell into temptation each and every time he went to sleep.

Ever since he first touched it, he loved the love he felt pour into him. The warmth of the blessing reached every cell in his body. And the heavenly dreams that followed made each and every burn be worth it. He sometimes wished he had never received such a gift, that he had left it behind when he left, but then he would feel the cold stares of the Dark Council or see what hell wanted of him, and he would run to feel that warmth once more.

He loved the gift that Aziraphale had given him, yet knew how much it would hurt his angel if he knew just how far he had taken it. That is why he did not answer any calls, letters, texts, or where the hell had Aziraphale gotten a messenger dove? And really a telegram? Clearly his angel was desperate to reach him. And yet Crowley could not face hurting his friend. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t for as long as he could.

He had slept with his dreamcatcher each and every night in Denmark. He feared for his hands, so he placed it anywhere else. His arms, his legs, his back, his chest, everywhere where the burns wouldn’t be noticed by hell. He kept his face, neck, and feet untouched, knowing it would be too painful or obvious to hide any injury there. 

As soon as his job was declared done by the Dark Council, he miracled himself back to his flat. Wanting nothing more than to sleep for a century. He clung onto the wall, willing himself not to pass out; he needed to make it to bed at least.

He changed into his pajamas with a sweep of his hand, gasping softly as the soft silk brushed against his many wounds. He laid down on the bed, wincing with every movement and reached out to take the dreamcatcher in his sheet wrapped hand. He grabbed it out of his bag and was deciding which inch in his body could bare it for the night when he felt the air shift around him. 

Oh Fuck.

He shoved the dreamcatcher underneath his pillow before Aziraphale appeared and pretended to be asleep already.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice was not friendly sounding. “I know you’re not asleep, so you can cut the bullshit.”

Fuck. If Aziraphale was already swearing, this was not going to be pretty. Cowley braced himself then opened his eyes. He turned his head to watch his angel, but didn’t sit up.

Aziraphale was standing on the foot of his bed. His jaw clenched as if he wanted to scream and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

“Two weeks.” The soft icy tone was worse than any scream. “Two weeks you’re gone and you never tried to contact me.” 

It was phrased as a question, but not said as one. Crowley gulped.

“You left town, injured, and now return without so much as a hello.” He continued.

“I-“ His angel’s unblinking stare shut him up and pinned him to place.

“I knew there was something wrong when you left; I know it was the dreamcatcher. You will give it to me and I will get rid of it.” Once again not a question.

This made Crowley sit up sharply, “NO!” he yelled, then he curled on himself as all the pain in his body hit him. 

Faster than the blink of an eye, Aziraphale was at his side. 

“Crowley?” this time the tone was frightened, frightened and very worried. He reached out a hand and placed it on Crowley’s back, only to pull it back as it pulled a scream from his friend. 

Not sure what was wrong with his friend, Aziraphale reached out to touch his friend’s face, but was stopped by Crowley flinching away, which caused him to once more scream in pain.

“Cr-Crowley” Aziraphale whispered in shock.

“Not your fault.” Crowley said in between gritted teeth. 

“Your aura is weak Crowley. That can only happen when a demon has been blessed (or tortured, he stubbornly didn’t add).”

“Not your fault. I did this.” Crowley insisted.

“I gave you the tool! How is it not my fault?!” Aziraphale’s voice broke and tears welled in his eyes.

“Never told me to use it. My fault.” Crowley’s breathing calmed to painful gasps once more.

“Show me.” Aziraphale pleaded as tears ran down his face. Crowley could have refused, but knew that even though his angel would respect his wish, it would also hurt him even further. “Please.”

“Not your fault.” Crowley said one more time. He waited for Aziraphale’s eyes to meet his, and his angel knew what he needed to hear.

“No- not my fault.” Aziraphale said and watched as Crowley slowly uncurled from his fetal position, “Not yours either.” He added. 

Crowley stopped for a moment before fully sitting up. His breathing coming in small sharp gasps as he clenched his jaw to avoid screaming.

Aziraphale once more reached out to his friend, simply holding his hand out, not sure where it was safe to touch. Crowley looked at his hand and leaned his head into the touch, letting Aziraphale feel before he could see. Aziraphale cradled his cheek in his hand and Crowley shut his eyes. He allowed his imagination to stop blocking the pain, lowering his defense wall and letting Aziraphale in wholly. 

Aziraphale’s knees gave out on him, thankfully he only landed on the bed and didn’t let go of Crowley. This kind of pain, the kind of pain his demon, his Crowley was in, was unthinkable. How could anyone be in this much pain and be alive, let alone conscious. He was about to let go of Crowley’s face when he felt something other than pain; it was a warm pulsing feeling behind every injury. 

Love. 

He felt Crowley’s love for him and felt the love he felt for Crowley in each one of the burns covering his demon’s body. More tears ran down his face as Crowley opened pained filled eyes and smiled. 

“Oh my dearest.” Aziraphale leaned over and cradled Crowley’s face in his hands and softly kissed him. 

It was not the passionate kiss Aziraphale pictured them having, it wasn’t the spectacular kiss Crowley often dreamed about, but it was perfect nonetheless.

It was more than a kiss, it was a vow. Aziraphale let all of his love for Crowley pour into that kiss, but kept the touch light. 

Aziraphale pulled back first, wanting nothing more than to continue kissing Crowley forever, but also knowing how in pain he was. Crowley tried to follow, but flinched as one of his burns pulled slightly.

“Show me dearest, I’ll help you.” Aziraphale said, dropping one hand onto the bed while the other moved to caress Crowley’s hair. Crowley’s eyes closed at the touch and Aziraphale ran his fingers through his hair until he relaxed slightly.

Once the fair of pain went down, Crowley opened his eyes once more. He took a deep breath and miracled his clothes away. Aziraphale felt the air leave his lungs as he saw everything that his demon had done to himself. 

There were burns everywhere. 

Although the burns on his hands had healed slightly in the last two weeks, they were still not fully healed. Now there were burns on his arms, on his chest, his back, and his sides, on his hips and thighs and all the way down his legs. All in the shape of the blessed dreamcatcher. Aziraphale let his tears run down his face as he took in every single burn.

Once he had catalogued each one into his brain, he grabbed a corner of the sheet and dried his face. His demon needed help now.

“Have you treated any of these?” he asked as he gently lifted one hand and turned it this way and that. 

“Hand ones before we had dinner, not any of the rest.” Crowley answered his eyes stuck to their hands.

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Let me care for you my dearest.”

Aziraphale got a bath ready for Crowley, knowing the best way to treat any injury was to sanitize it, it wasn’t pretty. Some of the wounds had begun to get infected and it was a very painful process to clean each one out. Aziraphale did it with as much care as he could, but he would not risk the infection getting worse. He tried to pull out all information he had ever read on first aid and medicine to mind. He had a few homeopathic remedies that could help on top of the modern day medication. He cleaned out every injury in the tub then miracled the water off his demon with a wave of his hand, no need to cause more pain by drying it conventionally. He made sure to miracle the water away instead of Crowley dry. Who knows how many more blessings his poor demon could handle before he vanished entirely. Then he got to work on the wounds.

Frivolous miracles be damned, he made everything he needed appear right there. Once they were all clean, he treated the wounds carefully but efficiently. The process left Crowley exhausted and he looked about to pass out. Aziraphale carried Crowley back to bed, laying him softly back onto the sheets. 

Aziraphale turned but before he could even take one step, he felt a hand grab his arm.

“Stay with me?” Crowley asked his voice softer than a whisper. 

“Of course dearest.” He answered. He walked around to the other side of the bed and laid down, facing Crowley. He felt something hard under his pillow and reached out to fish it out.

It was the dreamcatcher.

Aziraphale looked at the thing in his hands wanting to destroy it for causing his demon so much pain. He looked over and saw Crowley staring at him a look of concern on his face.

“Why did you use it if it hurt you so much?” Aziraphale had to know. “I ought to destroy the thing.”

“The dreams were so wonderful, it was worth the pain. I got addicted to the warmth of the blessing and love woven into it. It made the pain seem like such a small payment for so great a price.” Crowley stared at the dreamcatcher with a smile on his face.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the response. A demon addicted to blessings, willing to hurt himself to feel love. A love that Aziraphale would willingly give, a love they could now have.

“I do love you, you know. You don’t need pain or this thing to feel it.”

“I know, but I still want it.” Crowley said, “It’s a part of you that you gave me and I will not have you destroy it.” He reached out as if to grab it but Aziraphale held it away from him.

“I cannot let you keep something that will hurt you.”

“You let me keep holy water.”

“That’s different. You told me you would never use it on yourself and I believe you. But this could destroy you.” Aziraphale insisted.

“It doesn’t hurt when I don’t touch it.” Crowley tried, “if there is anything between my skin and the dreamcatcher, it just feels warm, no burning.”

“Do you swear it doesn’t hurt you then?” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at him. 

Crowley grabbed the sheet and extended his hand out for the dreamcatcher. Aziraphale scrunched his eyebrows but handed it over. He searched Crowley’s face for any sign of discomfort but found none. 

Crowley smiled and stretched out his other hand which Aziraphale took immediately. Apart from the previous pain, there was no additional pain in his demon’s body. In its place was the warm feeling he had previously felt. Aziraphale let out the breath he had been holding and relaxed.

Crowley smiled at him once more and handed the dreamcatcher back. Aziraphale placed it on the side table and turned back to his demon. 

“You should sleep now dearest. Only way to heal now is to rest.” Aziraphale said softly he lay down on the bed facing Crowley. He reached out and played with the silky red hair once more.

Crowley’s eyes shut and he relaxed into a sigh. He was beautiful, even burned and exhausted as he was now, he was stunning. 

Aziraphale thought he had already gone to sleep when Crowley’s whispering voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“I do too you know?” 

“Do what my dear?” Aziraphale asked, still playing with his hair.

“I love you too.”

Aziraphale smiled and placed one more kiss gently on Crowley’s lips.

“I know” he said as he kissed his forehead “Now sleep dearest. Have sweet dreams and leave your worries behind you.”

Crowley fell asleep with a smile on his face.

\--

It took four days for Crowley to be fully conscious again. Some of his wounds got infected and he was feverish for over two days. Yet every time he opened his eyes, his angel was there. He was never alone.

Aziraphale stayed by his side, never leaving him and taking care of him in any way he could. Once the fever broke, Aziraphale made sure he was simply resting his worn out body. Once he knew Crowley was out of the danger zone, he got to work.

Crowley opened his eyes softly. Half wondering if the hazy memories in his brain were mere dreams and if they were, he wanted to go back to sleep. 

“Dearest? Are you awake now?”

That was Aziraphale’s voice. But Crowley knew he was home, why was his angel here?

“Hmm huh?” not his most eloquent response.

“You scared me half to death, which by the way you were on the brink of; you had an extremely high fever for days. I was so worried and when it finally broke, it took you forever to wake up.” Aziraphale ranted.

Crowley scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, “You- you stayed?”

“Of course dearest.” Aziraphale said.

“But… why?”

“Because you asked me to.” Aziraphale’s warm smile and love filled eyes made Crowley forget to breathe.

“I have a present for you.” Aziraphale continued, beaming with excitement.

He pulled a pillow from behind his back and presented it to Crowley.

“It’s a pillow.” Brilliant reply Crowley. Bravo.

“I am aware of that love.” Aziraphale smiled like he had a secret. “Touch it.”

Crowley reached out for it and gasped in surprise. It was a pillow, one of his own pillows in fact. Yet this pillow was warm and soothing, like the dreamcatcher was without the pain.

“How??”

“I used one of your pillows as the base, and then I placed a small pillowcase over that which I then filled with my blessed feathers. Your pillow underneath was also blessed heavily. I then zipped up the case, and don’t even try to open it, it will take a heavenly miracle to do so. Not to mention something that will melt superglue. Just in case.” Aziraphale was beaming with pride.

He didn’t mention the miracle placed on the inside of the pillowcase to reinforce it so that none of his feathers would ever poke out. Or the additional cover he had placed on top of that one whose zipper had also been superglued shut. And epoxied. And melted. 

Crowley cradled the pillow close to his chest, reveling in the warm feeling that spread throughout his body. 

“I don’t know what to say angel. Why would you-” Aziraphale cut him off with a kiss. Crowley kissed him back after a few shocked seconds.

“So that for once you can, without injuring yourself, dream a little dream of me.”

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it! The End! this turned out a lot fluffier than I thought it would. too cheesy maybe? Thank you once more for all of the feedback, each and every kudos and comment made my day! I hope I fulfilled the quite high expectations with this last chapter! let me know!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at https://raven-rose22.tumblr.com/   
> feel free to message me or send me prompts and I shall see what I can do!


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